Spring Chill
by Catherine Rain
Summary: Young Caesar was betrayed by his dear brother...


Spring Chill   
by Catherine Rain   
makocrystal@hotmail.com   
March 15, 2003

_

"For ever and for ever farewell, Cassius.   
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed.   
If not, why then, this parting was well made."   
-William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Julius Caesar

_

            Caesar beamed as he pushed open the auditorium doors and ran out into the sunlight, down the rows of stone steps. The assembly had not been boring, for once; it was the end of the day and school was over; and the weather was finally getting nice. He nearly collided with an older student, stopped, and veered off into the grass.

            "Wahoo!" he shouted, flinging himself down on the newly sprouting turf. Light beamed down on him through the spread branches of the tree high above. He squirmed out of his uniform jacket and rolled over on the springy ground, noting the tufts of new green grass starting to poke up through the dirt. Wasn't springtime in a week or so? It was the first really warm day all year, which was practically eternity, or so it felt. How good was the March afternoon!

            The excellent day had taken him by surprise. He had had a particularly depressing morning, and when he heard about the upcoming assembly, he had dreaded it from the start. Not only was it some historical lecture by a guest speaker, but it was about his own family, and thus threatened to be boring. He had anticipated something like the lectures he always got at home about living up to his name. It hadn't been like that at all. The speaker had told him things he'd never heard, things about the cousins that died before he was born. She even managed to tell him things about his grandfather he'd never known. Man, he had a creepy family! It was no wonder he never saw most of his relatives anymore. They were all mad at each other, and no one had ever explained why, until now.

            He wondered if Albert had known what the fights were about. Albert probably knew a lot about what was going on with the folks; he paid attention to that kind of thing. Caesar didn't care much for that. He didn't want to get drawn into the fight; he couldn't imagine getting mad at Albert and never talking to him again. That had happened to their cousins. They had both been on the same side, or maybe not; Caesar wasn't really sure he understood all that. They had gotten along, though, except for some political idea that made them fight. And then they'd died without getting to make up! It was so sad!

            _That'll never happen to Albert and me_, he reminded himself. _We made a promise_. He could still remember that uneasy night years before when the folks had been arguing—scary, political arguments that made some people hate each other—and even Albert had looked nervous. Caesar remembered flinging himself onto his brother's lap and swearing that he would never, ever fight with him even though they were family. Albert had relaxed then, and made a solemn promise to stay and be Caesar's special big brother no matter what.

            It was an ancient memory, but Caesar knew he remembered it right because he told Albert about it all the time. They didn't have to fight just because they were Silverbergs. They could defy the family curse. That's what the speaker had called it, a family curse. Used as weapons, at their own expense. Albert was better, though. Albert didn't care about the family curse, and neither did Caesar. He giggled convulsively, getting scratched up by loose twigs in the dirt.

            _Wonder what Albert thought of the Grandfather Leon stories? Those were really weird._ As much as the brothers had heard about their all-important ancestors, a lot had been left out. No one had _ever_ told Caesar that his grandpa cut his wrists to summon a giant wolf-beast from a True Rune! That was really awesome, but also really scary. Also, he had burnt down a town once, but that was not quite as cool. _Why didn't we get to hear about this stuff instead of about his sharp maneuvers during the charge on the Floating Fortress?_ Plus, until he'd looked at the speaker's notes about the Dunan Unification War, Caesar had not known that the forest outside of L'Renouille ever caught on fire. 

            _Dude, we're messed up._ He wanted to talk to Albert. Right now. He leapt up from the ground, bits of dead grass and dirt falling from his hair. Barely, he remembered to pay attention and grab his jacket before racing off in the direction of the dormitories.

            "Hey!" yelled a fluffy-haired girl as he sprinted past. "Hey, Caesar Silverberg!"

            He skipped himself to a halt. "Yeah?"

            The girl pulled nervously on her sleeve as he approached. "That assembly we had today. Isn't that your family?"

            "Yeah. But." He straightened up and tried his best to look proud. "I'm not like them. Me and Albert are different. We're not gonna fight in any wars."  
            "You're not going to fight in wars?" she demanded.

            "Nope."

"Um, but, then, why are you studying tactics?" Her fluffy blonde hair sprayed out from her face like a lion's mane, charged with electrical static. 

            "Uhh…" He didn't know. Why did he study tactics? Well, because he would get in trouble if he didn't. His father had prescribed his schooling long before he'd thought he could have a choice.

            "'Cause I'm going to fight in wars," she continued. "I want to be the best. I want to win. But you are the one leaders will listen to. 'Cause you're a Silverberg."

            "Hey, people aren't gonna listen to me just because I'm a Silverberg."

            "Yes, they are. Didn't you hear that speaker? People listen when they believe you can do it. Most of the time, your reputation just means you did well. But you have a reputation already. People hear your name, and they assume you're a genius."

            "I _am_ a genius," he interrupted.  
            "And they assume you're gonna do something great. Don't you have any ambition? You're Caesar Silverberg. I wish I were Caesar Silverberg."

            "I wish I weren't."

            "I guess then it's a waste…"

            "What's the point?" He shrugged. What did this girl want? She was kind of weird, what with the way she stared at him with bugged-out blue eyes, and that gravity-defying mane of hers didn't help make her look any more normal.

            She looked sad. "Never mind. Forget it, I guess."

            "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

            "You didn't. It's just… I had this idea. But I guess if you're not really interested in tactics, it wouldn't matter."

            "Wait." He could see her disappointment; perhaps there was some way he could help her. Now that he thought about it, she looked so scrubby that she probably had no friends. "Tell me what it is."

            "Oh, just… That speaker is going to teach here for a while. She's doing special classes. I heard she's very selective… I wanted to get in, and I thought maybe you would get in too. And then, maybe, you could help me out. And I'd try to help you out, if you ever needed it, but you probably wouldn't. But… if you've got better things to do, then I guess your answer's no." Having exhaled her plan in a rush, she stared down at the ground.

            "Well, I dunno. Maybe." He felt bad for the poor girl; she looked as if he had just thrown her hopes on the ground and jumped on them. "See, the thing is, my brother Albert and I don't want to get involved in politics. Because we're afraid it will make us fight. Like the rest of our family; you heard about that. My brother is my best friend in the whole world, and I don't ever wanna fight with him." He pulled a strand of dry grass out of his hair. "But I'll think about it."

            "I would really like that…"

            "Is it a lot of work, do you know? Is the teacher really that special? I've never even heard of her…"

            "I looked up her resume. She worked both with and against Leon Silverberg! …Not that that means much to you," she admitted. "But it means something objectively. And apparently she did a lot of following Mathiu Silverberg around. It makes perfect sense to associate yourself with someone like that, to gain credit…"

            Caesar narrowed his eyes. "And you think you can do that too," he accused, jabbing a finger at her.

            For a moment she looked as if she was going to protest, but then she went limp. "It _was_ a good idea."

            "Or would have, if I'd been a sucker for it." He scowled. "Thanks, you're gonna be a great friend."

            "Hey!" she cried as he strode off, refusing to give her the benefit of a response. "Hey, don't think I'm like that…"

            But she _was_ like that, he thought as he walked evenly away, letting her talk to his back. She was only trying to gain power, hardly a person he would be able to trust.

            Still, he had to admit that the idea of special classes under a special teacher was somewhat intriguing. They would be small classes, advanced and certainly not boring. The teacher had been a good lecturer. Even if he had no plans to put his knowledge to use, it might be interesting to take the class. His parents would approve, too. _Probably a ton of work, though_, he reminded himself, and he did not want to risk having no time to spend with Albert. Well, as he'd said to the girl, maybe; but only maybe and no more.

            Enthused at the idea of discussing it with his big brother, he broke into a run again. _Albert knows all about advanced class scheduling and things. He'll have good advice._

            The upperclassmen's dormitory was eerie in its silence; though always calmer than Caesar's own, it was unusually quiet for a warm afternoon. He felt anxious walking on the tiled floor, fearing that his footsteps might shatter someone's concentration somewhere. Unseen ghosts of stricter scholars seemed to be watching him and judging his conduct. He straightened his back and tried to walk as though he had important business, feeling somehow that a family visit would not hold weight in the eyes of the deadly serious students behind these walls. But he had a legitimate reason to be intruding on the upperclassmen's domain. He was not the only younger student who came to visit siblings; he was merely the only one here at the time. In fact, he seemed to be the only person in the building at all; only the ghosts in his mind watched him now. 

            He knocked on his brother's door, wincing at the sharp crack as it echoed through the ancient hall.

            Albert opened the door just a sliver. Upon seeing his visitor, he widened it to admit entry. "Hey there."

            "Hey," said Caesar, comfortable now that sound seemed no longer out of place. He drifted into the familiar room with its flat nubbed carpet.

            Albert shut the door behind him, and said nothing.

            "Is this a bad time?"

            "I was resting, but it's fine."

            "Okay." Caesar sprawled in his usual chair, an uncushioned wooden dormitory construct. A blade of dry grass fell from his sleeve. "That assembly was really interesting. I thought it was going to be the same old rubbish…"

            "I thought so, too." Albert sat down at his desk. "It was a pleasant surprise."

            "Did you know all those things about Grandfather Leon?"

            "Actually, yes. I've been reading up on recent history." He looked down at the neat piles of paper on his desk. "Our family tends to be revisionist, to say the least."

            "Not all of us," reminded Caesar. "We're not all the same."

            "No, we're not."

            He smiled, thinking of their promise. "Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you. I know we aren't going to be strategists, but I might want to take some advanced classes. They won't be as boring and slow. Only if you think I can do it, though, and still have time to spend with you after you graduate…"

            "I think you should take the class," said Albert gravely.

            "Really? Well, I might." Caesar wondered at his brother's mood. He must be unusually tired; he almost seemed upset, but it was probably just fatigue.

            "Hey, Caesar." Albert paused, and looked down at his papers again.

            "Yeah?"

            "I have started on my plans for post-graduation."

            "Really? What are you going to do?" The younger kid leaned his wooden chair back, tipping it on two legs. "I don't even know of any careers, yet, that involve our qualifications, other than politics."

            "Neither do I."

            "Huh? Then what did you find?"

            Albert folded his hands, and fixed his gaze on a point located somewhere on the blank wall near the floor. "I don't know how to tell you this gently. I am going to be a strategist."

            "Wha—?!" The chair crashed to the floor. Wooden slats poked Caesar in the back. He caught his breath. Surely Albert was joking. No, it did not sound like a joke.

            The ceiling faded in and out of focus in Caesar's vision. "Our promise…"

            "I'm sorry."

            Did the promise mean nothing to Albert? Had it, perhaps, meant nothing all along? Had he only been going along with it as a comforting lie? "You promised. You did promise."

            "I know, and I'm sorry."

            "Sorry you promised or sorry you're breaking it?"

            Albert said nothing.

            Furious, Caesar struggled to sit up, pulling the flap of his jacket out from under the chair. "And what about me? Are you leaving me behind? You said we would never fight. Tell it to me straight, Albert. If you're gonna be loyal to a country, are you gonna ditch me?"

            The betrayer gazed levelly at his brother. If sadness graced his eyes, it was hidden so deep that Caesar was only half-certain he saw it. "We aren't normal people. We're Silverbergs. Born for war, bred to plan, we guide history. The flow of time is channeled by us alone."

            "Why?"

            "It is our duty."

            "_Why?_"

            He stood, and walked to the window, raising the curtain to look at the sky. Caesar wished he would not turn away and hide his gaze; he missed the comforting eyes of his brother.

            "Didn't you listen to the lecture?" replied Albert. "It's what we do and what we've always done. To do otherwise means we're failures." Coming from his soft familiar voice, the sentiment seemed alien and impossible.

            "You can't really think that."

            "I do." Again, it sounded like a lie; his back remained turned to his anguished brother.

            "You want power! You just say you have a duty!"

            "That's a serious allegation, Caesar. Do _not_ ascribe false motives to your enemy."

            A chill ran through Caesar's body. The pit of his stomach went cold. "What did you say?" Frantically he worked his legs away from the fallen chair and scrambled to his feet. "What did you just call me?"

            "Calm down. You're arguing against me. I only used the appropriate term."

            "You just called me your _enemy_!" He darted across the room and pulled on the back of Albert's coat collar, trying to get him to turn around.

            Without flinching from his position at the window, the taller brother flicked an arm behind him, knocking Caesar backwards and forcing him to stumble away.

            "Stop it, Albert." He began to cry. "I mean it."

            "I mean it, too."

            "You promised! You swore we would never fight! We would never be like the rest of the family! They might all hate me, because I'm peaceful, because I don't want to fight, but you, you would never hate me! You would never be my enemy! I love you, Albert! Don't joke around! I mean it with my whole heart!" He was ranting, now, and getting no response.

            The silence sliced more painfully than words, as every tick of the clock made the truth more certain and more painful to bear. It was too late now, and getting later. Every second he did not wake up from the nightmare made it more certainly real. "Albert… Do you mean that, if we disagree, if I tried to stop you, you would fight me?"

            Silence filled Caesar's ears with the answer, and filled his eyes with fresh tears.

            "Even you, Albert?" He trembled. "Even you!"

            He slammed the door as he fled, making as much noise as he could, his anger fit to disturb the sleeping spirits of the hall. The ghosts were laughing at him, the wheel of destiny trying to trip his feet. Racing away, he made a promise to himself that he _would_ keep. _Someday, I will find out why._

            _And when I do, Silverberg or no, the world will shake with my anger and my love._

~ fin ~


End file.
